TITLE: Tasting the End
AUTHOR: Blaire Ryan
EMAIL:
Redbat1@earthlink.net
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: The last
day.
SPOILERS: All
episodes game, but doubtful that they'll be any references.
DISTRIBUTION: Eternal Bitca, UCSL,
YGTS, Existence Crawls,
and any others that apply.
DISCLAIMER: Joss
Whedon owns it all, along with a bunch of other rich people.
FEEDBACK: Desired beyond desire.
NOTES: Response to
Gloveslap 24 at You Got the
Stones? Okay, my muse is busted
beyond all recognition. As you'll see,
this sucks, and I just had to write whatever I could get out. Note, the challenge required me to do this,
I didnae wanna.
DEDICATION: To the wackiness that is YGTS?
I've tasted
it many times. Far too many, if you ask
me. It's the end of existence, or life,
or whatever hell happens when you die.
Every vision, every shocking migraine with pictures, came with death of
some sort. Most times, that death was
averted. Sometimes though, it
wasn't.
It was my
fault that I ended up the way I am. If
I'd killed Harmony when I had the chance, any of the times I had the chance,
really, I would be able to see my reflection in the mirror at this moment. But then, if I'd done that I would have been
dead over twelve hundred years ago. I
wouldn't know what Alpha Centauri Prime looks like in the sunlight (it turns
out only the sun of Earth kills vampires.
Apparently, when vampires are created… never mind, I'm not going to
waste precious time explaining). And,
probably most importantly, I would have missed out on a whole lot of really
good sex. I mean, who would have
thought Harmony knew how to use her tongue for anything other than speaking the
praises of clothing designers?
Now, I
would have to say unlife would have been fantastic if it hadn't been for that
damn slayer. How the hell she even got
ahold of wood for a stake in the middle of deep space I'll never know, but
that's not really important anymore.
She had the stake, and she used it on my Harmony.
My reaction
put me in the situation I'm now finding myself in. I hadn't even thought, just reached out and snapped the neck of
the stupid bitch. Let me tell you, that
is SO not a good idea on a space station.
An even worse idea? Running from
the security personnel that arrive on the scene. What was the worse they could've done, put me in a cell for fifty
years? You'd think after twelve
centuries, I'd have learned not to fight back in situations like that.
But I did
react badly, and I blame the visions.
Even though I hadn't received a single vision for a century (long story,
don't ask why the PTB would send a soulless demon a vision), the moment I saw
the fancy-dancy proton weapon I thought of when I'd still been human, the
moment I felt it as seventeen bullets entered the back of some innocent kid in
New York. Well, accompanied by my demon
(and no, I don't have the icky animal look the master had. Harmony's blood was never powerful enough to
give me that kind of mysticism) I panicked.
I ran, and they fired after me.
I can see the bolts of energy hitting everywhere around me, and if I can
onlly make it to an airlock-
The End
I told you. Pure
suckage.